He plunged back into the mud they had just extricated themselves from and with a sigh of exhaustion and resignation Figulus turned and followed his centurion. The march back was twice as hard, as Cato forced them on as fast as he could manage, heedless of the burning weariness in his weakening limbs, all the while staring anxiously at the thin haze of smoke that, in the fading light, seemed never to get any closer.

They could hear the squealing of the pigs long before they emerged from the track through the marsh and ran the final distance through the trees towards the camp, breathless and leaden-limbed. The sun was now no more than a burnished disc of coppery fire low on the horizon behind them, and they pursued their long distorted shadows into the small clearing that formed their camp. There, beside the smoking remains of the fire, lay two spitted piglets. Tethered to one of the trees the sow looked on in terror, squealing for its young with shrill relentless cries. The surviving piglets clustered round her trotters, pink snouts nuzzling their mother for comfort.

The men were bent over the roast pigs, eating, and one by one they gazed up guiltily as they became aware of the officers’ return. One of them nudged Metellus and he slowly rose to his feet as Cato and Figulus came panting up towards the fire. The legionary forced a smile on to his face, bent down and picked up a hunk of meat from the small pile he had carved. He straightened up and held it out towards his centurion.

‘There, sir. Lovely strip of belly. Try it.’

Cato stopped several feet short of the fireplace, and stood leaning on the shaft of his spear, chest heaving as he struggled to regain his breath.

‘You . . . bloody fool.’ He glared round at his men. ‘All of you . . . fools. That fire can be seen . . . for miles.’

‘No.’ Metellus shook his head.’There’s no one near enough to see it. No one, sir. Not any more.’

Cato looked at the legionary.’Where did you get the meat?’

‘That farm we found the other day, sir.’

‘Those people . . .?’ Cato felt sick. ‘What happened?’

Metellus grinned. ‘Don’t worry, sir. They’ll be telling no tales. I took care of that.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Metellus’ brow creased into a frown. ‘Of course.’

One of the other men chuckled. ‘Only after we’d had a bit of fun with the women first, sir.’